


Scrappy and Scottish

by Clever_Girl_22



Series: We Trained For This [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Leo Fitz Feels, Swearing, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24103855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clever_Girl_22/pseuds/Clever_Girl_22
Summary: After May is tasked with helping Coulson settle the aftermath of Season Two, Fitz must train with newcomers Lance Hunter and "Mack" Mackenzie. As they focus on hand-to-hand combat training, Fitz continues to process his feelings regarding Jemma and how he sees himself after continued brain-damage.
Relationships: Leo Fitz & Lance Hunter & Alphonso "Mack" Mackenzie, Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Series: We Trained For This [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740529
Kudos: 15





	Scrappy and Scottish

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in honor of SHIELD's final season premiering in a few weeks. God, I miss this show already.

"Mack, no. He can't just pick people up and throw them. He's a pasty, little Scot."

"Hey, I am not _pasty!"_

"I dunno, Turbo. Turning pink isn't really much better."

Fitz huffed; May had been too busy to continue their training together, so shortly after improving his gun-based skills, he needed to find another teammate. Hunter had volunteered with a little too much enthusiasm and Mack was brought on to supervise, for the most part. The two men had worked together for a few weeks while Mack coached from the side, advocating for Fitz to have better 'muscle endurance'. None of this was to Fitz's particular liking.

"Mack, buddy, he doesn't need that; he's here to be better at self-defense, not at lifting." Hunter had argued.

For some reason, Fitz did not mind the prospect of lifting. He had become incredibly self-conscious and a sneaking feeling of depreciation had seeped into him like a creeping toxin. It had started with his brain aneurysm and continued when hearing Jemma had gone undercover--without telling him--to HYDRA. He had heard from others in the science lab that she had blossomed; she was tough, beautiful, brave...and he was none of those. And, she was not _his,_ which had become a growing thorn in him ever since his feeling had been unrequited. Now, more than ever, Fitz wanted this to change.

However, Fitz knew his top priority was improving his self-defense. Hunter was right; while he did have a substantial amount of gun training complete, he was helpless should he ever face hand-to-hand combat. May had helped him so much with a gun, but just when they were starting the next phase Coulson had called her away to deal with the aftermath of Skye's--no Daisy's--parents' destruction. The events had lead to a lot of deaths and an amount of paperwork no man should face alone if he could help it.

"C'mon, Turbo. Put some hustle in that little muscle of yours" Mack said.

Him and Fitz were warming up for the section with a light (well, light in Mack's eyes) boxing circuit, using one of May's numerous punching bags. They took turns corralling the bag for the other to hit st. As Mack held the bag, Fitz took short and swift jabs, landing precisely and sharply. In contrast, Mack's were thunderous and could take Fitz's breath away if he wasn't too careful.

Daisy had been on his mind lately. He recalled what May had said once; she really did understand his predicament. They both were struggling with who they are. But now, even when he had tried his best to soothe his friend when she shared her amazing yet frightening power with him, he was deeply afraid of her. Skye--Daisy--had the potential to be and extraordinary scientific specimen (which, he realized morbidly, he was curious to better understand). But, she terrified every vibrating atom in his body.

Fitz suddenly felt a sharp pain in his let temple. Stars flitted into his vision and his head pounded with the intensity of a freight train.

"What the bloody _fuck,_ Mack!" Hunter cried.

Fitz was sprawled face-up on the floor. He must have forgotten that it was Mack's turn in the circuit to punch. Mack and Hunter leaned over him, a growing worry in their eyes.

"What...what happened?" Fitz asked dizzily.

Hunter and Mack exchanged looks.

"Well, buddy, you weren't paying attention while holding for me and-"

"He knocked your goddamn _lights_ out!"

Fitz tried to smile despite the spike of pain in his head.

"Wow, Mack, that's pretty impressive. Is it my turn to bash your face in now?" He quipped sarcastically, struggling to his feet.

Mack extended a hand. Fitz grabbed it and hoisted himself to his feet.

"I'll let you try." He said, chuckling.

Hunter rolled his eyes.

***********

After warming up, the trio turned to the focus for the day: knife-based fighting. For this segment, Hunter took the lead. He tossed Fitz a blade with a look in his eyes that looked way too excited ; Fitz caught it as if the knife was on fire. He was nervous. He was well aware of Hunter and Bobbi's...'fascinating' way of settling disagreements with each other. Fitz had asked Hunter to film himself doing a blade routine for him to study (he always learned visually best anyways). He had even a few weeks ago gone to Coulson to question him on Hunter's knife skill.

"Oh, he's perfect to teach you," The Director had said with a wink, "You can't mess around with Bobbi Morse and _not_ be a good fighter in any category."

Then, Fitz had shivered at the thought. He knew Hunter's skill was exceptional. He just had never fully realized it until now. Bobbi was a force to be reckoned with and Hunter surely was just as capable as his ex-wife. Fitz felt a nervous chill down his spine. Hunter gave him a bullet-proof vest.

"Why these?" Fitz asked, watching Hunter strap one on himself.

"Because," the other man said, "We're going to make this into a game. Whoever gets the most slashes in a circuit wins the round."

The two took positions at opposites of the room. Mack stood off to the side.

"We'll break this up into two-minute rounds." He said, pulling out a stopwatch.

A buzzer sounded and the two fighters approached each other, Fitz in defense and Hunter approaching much faster than he wanted to see. He dodged the first blow but could not avoid the backhand; Fitz felt Hunter's blade scrape against the vest; Mack winced. They all knew that May would not appreciate them scratching up the almost brand new equipment. Hunter swiped again and hit Fitz over and over and over.

"That's seven..." Fitz heard Mack mumble.

It was a joke. No matter how much he ducked and jumped, Fitz was at the complete mercy of Hunter's hand. Finally, Mack's stopwatch signaled the end of the round.

"That was twenty-two for me!" Hunter said with a smirk.

Fitz scowled. He didn't even land one hit.

"C'mon, Turbo. Get at him!" Mack cheered as they started the next round.

They went through the second round, then the third, then the fourth, until they were amount to start the seventh one. Fitz was breathing heavily and could feel cold sweat wherever his clothes touched his skin; Hunter looked unfazed. All he wanted was _one damn hit..._

"Turbo, What's eating you?"

Mack handed him a water bottle. Fitz put his hand up and declined it.

What would May say about his pathetic performance?

"Hey, Fitz, you going to get angry? Or are you just going to let me kick the crap out of you?" Hunter taunted.

Fitz reddened. _Of course_ he was angry; angry at Skye for threatening the safety of their whole team; angry at may for leaving him when he needed her most in the middle of their training. He was angry at Ward for stabbing him in the back and taking away his most prized characteristic--his brain. He was even angry at Mack and Hunter and their endless antics and nicknames. But most importantly, he was angry at _Jemma._ Sweet, intelligence, sensitive Jemma Simmons who had always been there for him but disappeared when he need her the most. Jemma...he wanted--no, needed--her by him. He needed no one else.

Fitz's eyes shown with a new intensity. He wasn't angry. He was _furious._

"One hit, Hunter. One hit in you bloody skull!"

Fitz lunged at Hunter, stabbing and slashing with new-found ferocity. Hunter barely was able to to avoid the vicious attacks. The round felt like it lasted hours, but at a full two minutes of grunting and swearing, it had ended. Fitz had landed one singular hit on Hunter's right shoulder. There was a collective sigh of relief from the trio and the distant sound of footsteps.

"I'll be damned, Turbo." Mack whistled.

Hunter smiled in spite of himself.

"That's what we like to see!" He cried, clapping Fitz on the back.

Fitz eyes shone with pride as he blushed and smiled sheepishly.

"Scrappy, little Scot--that's what you are." Hunter continued.

Fitz couldn't help but feel a sense of joy. It was barely visible, but the scratch still existed as a symbol of accomplishment. May would be proud.

"Now, don't get ahead of yourself just yet." Mack said, "We got a lot of work to still do; you're still just a beginner."

Mack threw an arm over Fitz proudly.

"Let's have drinks on this one!" Hunter exclaimed, heading for the nearest fridge.

The men soon congregated in the Bus' lounge room, clinking drinks in celebration.

"To Turbo." Mack cheered.

"To Turbo!"

Fitz softly smiled. He really had come a long way. Maybe things were not so bad.

"Yeah. Yeah, to me--"

_"Fitz?"_

Fitz turned and his heart erupted. There was Jemma, radiant as ever.

**Author's Note:**

> As an aside, I am glad to see I had made a prediction about a FitzSimmons wedding so long ago in "The Iron Palm" :')
> 
> Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated!


End file.
